I apologize PROFUSELY for being so late. (School is killing me; would you believe me if I was getting C's and D's? Oo I'm usually an A student, I swear!) Dreamcatcher is inching along, I'm sorry to report. I haven't given up hope yet, don't worry, but I honestly don't have a good guess as to when the next chapter will be up (I'm having SUCH a hard time making it interesting .) Anyhow, this chapter is kinda boring in my mind. ;; They don't do anything but... sit there and talk. (runs away) Okay, fine, sit there, talk and blush. Hope that clears things up. :-p
First off, a note that's been bugging me for more than a month; I GOT THE WRONG MOONLIGHT SONATA. I've had this old, really simple but beautiful piano piece labeled as "Moonlight Sonata", but I now highly doubt the title of the piece is right since the CD was burned and the guy knew nothing about classical music. ;; I apologize sincerely to everyone that noticed this; there's an embarrassingly high number of you. Again, I'm very very sorry! Silly mistake, I know!
Next, a whole lot of thank you's: to my wonderful beta Moonlitspire (who actually have to put up with the unedited version of this chapter --Soraki, I'm sorry I didn't get to use you this time... ), to my savior Emmy who painstakingly took the time to translate the English to French phrases cuz I'm failing French and is very afraid to attempt to do so myself, to Nenya for thinking up the name 'Walker' when I was desperately scanning history textbooks for some 1700's British names, to my email/Pharaoh Palace buddies who dropped by lots of helpful hints to help move this story along (it would take up waaaay too much space to name them all) and of course, to all you wonderful fans for all your lovely reviews. I LOVE YOU ALL! (big teary hug) Thanks for sticking by me for so long!
... translated French
"..." English (occasionally w/ un-translated words from other languages)
/.../ translated ancient Egyptian
'...' private thoughts
italics words/terms/pronunciations NOT in the language being currently spoken or in the English narration
bold song lyrics
1 2 3... footnotes
AN author's note
CHAPTER FOUR: Ghosts
Seto couldn't sleep. Being so far from both his ships and England, he felt distinctly homesick, aching inside in more than one way. It didn't help that he was an extraordinarily light sleeper; years of naval duty and unexpected surprises resulted in him usually sleeping with a pistol under his pillow and his sword within reaching distant. The slightest disturbance usually jolted him awake, a nasty habit that usually took its toll on his health when they were sailing through bustling cities or pirate-infested waters. Andrew, who could sleep like the living dead, usually took great delight in poking fun at his commanding officer, resulting in a few wicked midnight tricks that Seto did not care to relive.
Sighing, the Commodore tossed about a bit, his nightshirt scratching uncomfortably against his skin. He looked up at the sheer canopy of his large bed, feeling a bit claustrophobic surrounded by all these pillows and blankets. Most sailors and marines slept in tiny cabins with extremely simple cots, this type of bed was far too soft and big to be comfortable for anyone used to the military way of life. It didn't help matters that the room was overly plush in the first place, the carpet made of rich red velvet and every piece of furniture made of oak so old it could have grown in Seto's great-grandfather's days. As posh and glamorous as the room was, Seto found it stifling and entirely too decorated for its own good.
A breeze from the open window rippled through the room, blowing about the heavy curtains and sending the hanging canopy sheets tumbling into Seto's face. Growling irritably, the Commodore sat up in bed and kicked off his covers, fighting to free himself from the confining silk. Confound it, he wasn't going to lie around anymore like a dead duck. What he was now going to do, he hadn't the slightest idea, but he was sure it was going to be better than being suffocated by frilly French blankets. Shivering in his thin nightshirt, he scooted off the bed and pulled on his socks and breeches, hunting around a bit for his shoes before finding them under the bed. Slipping his feet into them, he picked up his wig from the table and skillfully fitted it on his head, only stopping briefly to tuck his dark locks under the edges. His hat, along with his open vest and jacket, awaited him on a chair nearby, having been carefully placed there before he got in bed. Seto noted with amusement that, with the simple addition of a wig, the chair could have easily passed off as him.
A soft sound came through his window and momentarily startled him. It was distant and quiet, but hauntingly beautiful. It sounded almost like... well... humming.
Curious as to who would be singing at this bloody hour, Seto made his way over to the window as he was buttoning his pale vest. The night was still was dark and clear, the moon and the stars twinkling high above him. A few crickets still chirped again somewhere down below. The trees that managed to reach Seto's window swayed gently to a calm breeze, the refreshing chillingly hanging in the silence of the air.
Straining his senses but seeing nothing, the Commodore shrugged to himself, slapping irritably at the curtain that continuously whacked his face.
He needed to get out of this bloody room.
A quarter of an hour later, Seto slid quietly out of the palace, pausing just outside a back entrance to breathe in the sweet night air. Having opted to leave his heavy jacket and his hat back in his room, the officer was dressed almost entirely in white, the proud gold embroidering of his long vest flashing in the silver moonlight. He almost seemed to glow in the darkness of the night.
Laden with the intoxicating smell of roses and other flowers, a cool breeze blew past him, bringing, again, the soft, singing voice in the distance.
Like a pale ghost among the dark shadows of the trees, Seto moved fluidly and leisurely toward the sound, taking in the occasional fountains and the old mass of blossoming vines that steadily crept up the sides of the palace. His wanderings took him deep into the maze of courtyards, alongside the old worn walls of increasingly old sections of the palace. At night, the lovely flowers and trees in these gardens were no longer welcoming, their shadows dark and foreboding, their vines and rough bark reaching out as if to snag a stray limb. Seto, however, walked on without fear, meandering silently and gracefully through the dead silence of the dark night, following the sweet song of the crickets and the occasional beam of silvery moonlight that lit his path.
For a long time, he walked alone through the fragrant smell of night-blooming flowers, his only companion a hooting owl somewhere in the trees. Feeling a sudden twinge of déjà vu, the Commodore stopped and looked about with flashing blue eyes. The tall trees from around the main palace had been replaced by tall hedges and hanging vines of ivy; the lilies and the tulips had been replaced by fiery roses, the same ones that Seto had made a comment about earlier in the day.
He was back at the Prince's courtyard.
Somehow, this didn't surprise Seto one bit.
Quietly, ever so smoothly, he glided through the marble pathways, brushing vines aside without so much of a blink. He walked deep into the protective lines of hedges, deeper than he had done so in the day, deeper toward the heart of the courtyard.
Eventually, distant at first, the sound of trickling, bubbling water reached his ears, accompanied by a clear, melodious tenor voice raised in a mournful song, the swaying and passionate melody drifting through the trees. The words, though now close and very clear, were unlike anything Seto had ever heard; they were not Latin-based in the least, nor remotely Asian.
Frowning, he stopped under an archway, peeking curiously into what he assumed to be the center of the Prince's courtyard. Silvery moonlight flooded the place, lighting up a small and cozy clearing in the shape of a circle, the ground covered with tiles of marble and scattered flower petals. A few ancient willows surrounded the circle, their huge branches reaching crookedly toward the sky, crying rivers upon rivers of long, dangling vines that rippled to every breeze. In their protective shadows was a small fountain in the middle of courtyard, filled with floating lily pads and magnificent, blooming lotuses the color of virgin snow. In the mist of the large blossoms was an odd assembly of stones of all colors and sizes, each piled upon each other like a miniature pyramid. From this pyramid spouted a gushing cascade of water, liquid shooting upward to form a graceful arc before cascading downward to form mini rivers along the side of the pyramid.
Seto's eyes widened ever so slightly.
Crown Prince Yami sat on the edge of the strange little fountain, illuminated by a flood of moonlight and glowing ethereally from the sparkling reflection of said light off the waters behind him. The boy was not wearing the French-style clothing as before, a fact that made up for much of Seto's utter bewilderment. Instead, he wore something entirely unfamiliar to this continent alone. Draped over his lithe frame was a long, flowing robe of near-sheer white, tied at the waist by a gold belt from which hung a long, slender flap of gold silk. Around his near-bare shoulders, the prince wore a gold collar plate of some kind, shaped distinctly like a bird of prey. On his lovely head, the boy wore a large pair of dangling gold earrings, made in a shape of which Seto was not quite familiar with. On closer inspection, there were dark streaks along the edges of the boy's beautiful eyes, accenting their exquisite color and shape in a strangely erotic way.
The attire was almost scandalous.
Almost.
Seto didn't dislike it one bit. It didn't leave much to the imagination, and bloody hell, he liked what he saw. But you'd have to gut him through to make him admit that.
Captivated, the Commodore could only watch as Prince swayed in the night breeze, in tune with a beat that only he could hear. The boy's eyes were closed blissfully as he sang that foreign melody, his voice an intoxicating, charming tenor that gushed passionately like the sweetest honey. His slender fingers curled around something hanging off his neck, Yami stroked this hidden object fondly as he sang, as if it was more precious than his weight in diamonds. His strange song continued to pour effortlessly from his lips, soothing and enchanting, floating through the air like a song of angels.
Eventually, as he drew close to the end of the song, Yami's voice trailed off to a choked whisper, his eyes fluttering open as if awakening from deep sleep. There was a hint of unshed tears in those swirling crimson eyes as he looked down upon the odd-shaped gold piece in his hand, one finger absent-mindedly trailing the etched Eye of Ra.
"You sing wonderfully."
Startled, Yami jumped, looking up quickly. His eyes widened when he saw a large white figure stepping out of the shadows by the courtyard entrance. "C-Commodore!"
"A late night greeting, your highness," greeted the tall officer, bowing deeply. Easily covering the distance separately them with a few long strides, he reached out and brought one of Yami's limp hands to his lips, kissing it tenderly. Seeing Yami's stare, the Commodore released the boy's hand and cocked his head. "Are you not supposed to be in bed, your majesty?" he teased gently.
Yami sputtered, heat creeping up his cheeks. "I should ask the same of you!" he snapped indignantly, eyes darting about, "You gave me a fright!"
"I apologize," answered Seto smoothly, brilliant eyes twinkling. "I could not sleep, so I decided to... explore."
Yami met his eyes, blushing a little. "And do your little explorations always run into me?"
At this, Seto smirked that all-knowing smirk of his. "Perhaps."
His word hung heavily in the air. In an instant, awkward, stifling silence settled between them. The Commodore made no move to come any closer, and Yami made no move period. He seemed surprised, at least, by the Commodore's appearance, as well as a bit unnerved. Panic in his eyes, the Prince searched around and behind Seto for some imaginary intruder, gaze scanning and intense. Seto watched this odd movement carefully, storing it in the back of his mind.
Finally, Yami lowered his chin, eyes flashing with uncertainly. He spoke nervously, hesitantly, avoiding the taller man's piercing gaze. "Commodore, I must ask you a favor... Please do not speak of this to anyone." He raised his gaze, scarlet eyes pleading, "I do not have permission to be here."
"I see," Seto murmured slowly, working this new piece of information in his mind. He had guessed it already, judging by the Prince's reaction to his entrance; after all, how often do high-bred royals wander about freely in the dead of night? He answered smoothly and without hesitation, "You needn't worry, dear Prince. I have no intention of turning you in and I had none to begin with." Watching Yami relax visibly, the Englishman continued, amused, "Besides, I highly doubt an English Commodore has any business wondering about the intentions of free-wandering French Princes."
Yami's stiffened posture melted with relief, his eyes sparkling. "Many thanks, Commodore..." he said, smiling shyly and gratefully, "My father would not appreciate me wandering out here alone..." Almost as an afterthought, he patted the space beside him as a welcome. "Come, Commodore. Join me." He flashed a brilliant smile in the man's direction, one that Seto could hardly ignore.
The Commodore cocked his head the other way, eyes flashing with surprise at the invitation. After a brief moment's hesitation, he silently maneuvered over and sat stiffly a good distance away from the boy, eyeing the prince uneasily. Yami felt butterflies dance in his stomach. Perhaps the Commodore did not wish to be here... or worse, perhaps it had been wrong to invite him. Was there some formal code of etiquette that they had just broken? The boy shifted restlessly, unnerved by the officer's deathly silence.
Seto was the first to speak. "That was a lovely song you were singing, your highness," he started somewhat awkwardly, keeping his voice neutral. "I am not familiar with it."
Yami blinked, then looked away. "I-It was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me to get me to sleep." He looked up thoughtfully, elegant profile accented by the moonlight. Quiet for a moment, he suddenly pointed upward with a slender arm, toward the mass of twinkling stars above. "Back in Egypt, we often slept outside when the stars were out. My mother would hold me and tell me some stories, then let me drift to sleep while she sang." Lowering his arm, the boy looked down sadly at his lap, trembling. "She's dead now, from what I heard... She's been dead for years. But every now and then I get this awful longing to hear her voice, to look at the stars and imagine that I was back home, falling asleep with her song in my ears."
Seto watched him silently, then looked away. "My sympathies... Your mother must have been a wonderful woman," he stated dryly.
"She was..." agreed Yami quietly, distant and lost in thought.
An awkward, mournful silence settled between them, filled with the rhythmic trickling of the fountain water and the occasional cricket chirp.
Then it was Yami's turn to speak. "What about your own mother, Commodore?" He looked curiously at Seto. "Surely you have a wonderful family back in England?"
Seto startled the boy with a short, bitter bark of a laugh. "...Not particularly," he replied quietly, his voice heavy.
Yami was surprised, to say the least. Surely the British royal family had used all their love and resources to raise such a magnificent man!
Sensing the Prince's curiosity, Seto continued, though awkwardly. "Aye, I have family... The King, the Queen, their daughters, a few extended relatives... but I rarely see any of them." Before Yami could ask why, he continued hurriedly, heart heavy, "I was born the only son of the eldest princess of three, Victoria."
"What is she like?" asked Yami, curling up now, inquisitive.
Seto hesitated, never once raising his eyes from where they focused solely on his shoes. "Blue eyes, dark hair, tall... They say she was quite independent, out-spoken even." He laughed bitterly, "But I wouldn't know. She died when I was very young."
Startled, Yami looked at him with wide eyes full of pity and sorrow. "...I'm sorry to hear that," he whispered.
Seto glanced up, sending him a dry smile, "Do not be, your highness. I can hardly recall her face, let alone her voice."
Yami looked away, hugging his knees to himself lightly. "What about your father?" he asked quietly.
Here, Seto's voice turned steely and he went back to staring at his shoes. "Christian Walker, a merchant sailor, the only son of some sea-faring family up north. Green eyes, blond hair, tall and strong, they say. But he was killed a few months before I was born; pirates attacked his ship while he was sailing for the colonies." Despite spitting out the word 'pirates' like a curse, the Commodore gave a casual shrug. "I never met him." 1 2
Yami flinched visibly. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have asked--"
"Quite alright, your highness," Seto leaned back, sighing deeply, "There was no harm done in asking."
Yami looked away, a bit ashamed. "So... So you're an orphan then?" he asked quietly.
There was the slightest twitch in Seto's left eye at the mention of that word. "Yes, I suppose so." His voice was soft.
"Then pray tell, what about your aunts? The King and Queen? They run a marvelous country, do they not?" asked Yami quickly, in an effort to slowly stir the topic away from anymore painful memories.
Seto raised an eyebrow. "I care very little for their governing of England. My grandmother did not approve of my mother's 'carefree' ways, nor of her choice in a low-born husband," One could almost hear the seething rage deep inside Seto's tight voice, "She stripped my mother of her title and exiled her from the main palace, pretending she never existed. My mother lived the rest of life --later on with me-- in one of the smaller costal castles. I never saw my grandparents in my youth, and now only see them very rarely. As for my aunts, Sophia was the only one that cared and took the time to visit me. My other aunt, Beatrice, never so much knew I existed."
Yami winced and said nothing, horrified at where this conversation was quickly turning. Ra, how could this marvelous, beautiful man have had such a terrible life? How could he have coped with all of it? The Prince's heart swelled with sympathy and admiration. Oh, he wanted to comfort the man, to kiss those pretty blue eyes, to massage those strong shoulders... Alas, he could not. Still, he was dreadfully close to shedding tears for the Commodore's pain. Both of them were in the same boat, chained by the tattered remains of their dark, torn pasts, forgotten by their families, their mothers long gone. The thought that they both bore this terrible burden suddenly made the weight a whole lot easier to bear.
Smiling a little, eyes tender, Yami touched Seto's arm gently, feeling the strong muscles tense under his fingers. The Commodore turned to look at Yami, then at the boy's hand, then back at Yami, brow furrowing in confusion.
Yami gave him a tiny, sincere smile. "You and I are not so different, Commodore..." he whispered.
Seto blinked. The edge of his lips twitched upward faintly. "No... I suppose we aren't," he answered quietly. It was strangely comforting, hearing the Prince say those words and feeling that small, warm hand on his arm. It seemed that Yami, too, shared his pain. And what a terrible pain it was...
Though he barely remembered her, there was little Seto wouldn't give to at least see his mother's face again, just once more. Would she have lavished him with love when he was a child, and spoiled him with sweets and toys? Would she be proud of him now, sailing on the open sea, proud officer of the British Royal Navy? Would she have tweaked his new hat at his promotion ceremony and planted a kiss on his cheek in front of the adoring audience? Seto knew it was foolish to dream this way, of course. After all, he would never admit this irrational longing. Still, it seemed that once again, the little Egyptian-born Prince had seen right through him, and better yet, didn't scold or laugh at him for such silly dreams.
"You are not like your people, your highness..." the Commodore murmured quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Yami looked at him in surprise, withdrawing his hand with no small amount of embarrassment. "Why... Why do you say that, Commodore?"
Seto turned his head a little to look at him for a long time, silent. "In many ways, I suppose. You're much wiser than any Prince I've ever met. And of course, you are extremely different in your looks, your beliefs, your..." he raised an eyebrow, "...choice of clothing..."
Yami blushed, looking down. "I'm flattered, Commodore..." He poked shyly at himself, "This is one of the few Egyptian attires I still have, a little something from my homeland. Still..." he trailed off, a little sad, " Father thinks that everything I am and do is treasonous."
Seto perked up at this, frowning. "May I ask why?"
Yami shrugged, as if it was nothing. "Since I came here, he's been trying his hardest to convert me to the European ways... Into a "proper" royal. So he dresses me like in brocade, teaches me proper etiquette, tries to make me believe his God, and tries to make me forget all the "heathen" ways I carried over from Egypt." His slender shoulders trembled, his voice tight. "B-But I refused. I find France too... stifling, the clothing too itchy, the society too stiff, the religion odd and too... formal for me. So I still worship the old gods, wear my own clothing and speak my native language, despite the fact that my father has forbade all three acts." He heaved a sigh, voice small. "He's never forgiven me for disobeying him."
Seto arched his eyebrows toward the heaven. Comprehension dawned upon him; so THAT was why the King was so cruel to the poor boy! Of course! "Heathen" ways were, without exception, not tolerated in European society, especially among royalty. He himself would know. But did the boy not realize that these words were treason? Treason against the state, the King, and even the Church! Any lesser man would have been beheaded or stoned to death, at least!
As if he just realized that, Yami flinched and looked up shyly, looking much like a puppy that had been whacked on the nose. "Will you speak of this to anyone, Commodore?" he whispered fearfully, eyes wide.
Seto was horrified to find himself melting under that sorrowful expression. "Of course not," he found himself saying, much too quickly.
Yami flashed him a sweet smile more brilliant than the sun, but it was soon replaced by a quick frown. His voice shrank. "Have I offended you, Commodore?" he asked gently.
Seto considered this for a moment, surprised to find himself not so much in a fit but actually admiring the boy for admitting such thoughts, as outrageous as they were. "No, not at all," he murmured, thoughtfully, "I suppose I can relate a bit to your... odd habits." The words felt odd on his tongue, every wire in his brain started screaming at him to stop. Still, he continued on, growing curiously more excited with every word, "I never did go to Church on Sundays; I never saw the point. Ah, and I haven't read a Bible in years." 3
Yami raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Good sir, you aren't religious?" His eyes grew ridiculously wide. To think! An English Commodore of the Royal British Navy who doesn't go to Church!
Seto flinched, suddenly horrified to find that such terrible words had slipped out of own his mouth. 'TREASON!' his mind screamed in bloody murder, 'TREASON!' This went against everything he had ever learned and every belief he held! Shaking his head, Seto cursed his momentary lapse of control. "Yes, but I swear, that is the only odd thing about me," he said quickly, mentally slapping himself. He'd be lucky if he wasn't beheaded!
Yami laughed, teasingly. "You can tell me, Commodore. I won't tell..."
Seto sent him a withering look, flustered. "No, I really shouldn't..."
Yami curled up beside him, inching a little closer than what Seto felt was a comfortable distance. "No, truly," the Prince encouraged, delighted that the stiff officer had a more personal side, "What other odd habits do you have?"
Seto glared at him stubbornly, eyes flashing. "No, truly, I have said enough. In fact, I have stepped out of my place." He shook his head, inching away uneasily to put some distance between the Prince and himself. "This is not... er... proper, your highness."
Yami grinned. "I order you to tell me."
Seto opened his mouth to protest, then diverted his gaze and sighed. "Fine." Without enthusiasm, he pointed to his stiff, half-heeled shoes. "I hate these bloody shoes," he muttered, embarrassed beyond reason.
Yami stared at him for a long moment, then threw his head back and laughed. "Is that all? Oh, I certainly imagine you do, Commodore," he giggled, "They are such dreadful things." He pointed to his own feet, which Seto now saw were totally bare. "I prefer sandals, but bare feet work just as well."
Making a face, Seto looked horrified at the mere thought. "That's positively barbaric!" Shoeless! Who can imagine!
Yami looked a little hurt. "Father dislikes the habit as well," he whispered a bit sadly, the mere sound of that honeyed voice making guilt stir deep in the pit of Seto's stomach.
The Commodore smoothed his features. "I apologize, your majesty. I forget my place..." he mumbled awkwardly, "I meant no offense."
Yami gave him a pained smile. "I am odd in countless ways, I know..." he sighed. He pointed to his head suddenly, grinning, "But at least I'm not the one in tights and those bloody wigs."
This made Seto gasp. "What about my wig?" he demanded, fiddling with the rolled hair on the sides of his ears. This wig was new, powdered white and expensive, not to mention only Commodores could wear this certain type. "They're required for the British Navy. Every well-off man needs one outside his house, after all, and it's terribly rude not to have one. Besides," he sniffled, "it's a indication of status."
Yami looked baffled. "But you do have hair under there, right?" he asked, making an odd face.
Stiffening, Seto scowled a little. "Of course I do."
"Show me."
Seto stared. Had he heard right?
Yami raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, pouting a little. "There's no one around, Commodore," he teased, raising his right hand, "I swear an oath of silence." It was quite amusing to see the unflappable naval officer sudden so flabbergasted.
Seto sputtered, caught completely off guard. "But your highness, it's... it's against protocol...!" Taking off his wig in front of someone? He's never done such a thing since he was old enough to wear wigs!
Yami's lips thinned a little. "I order you, Commodore, to show me your hair." He sounded far too eager.
Seto sputtered some more, then silenced himself and finally hung his head. His superiors would have his head for this, he knew. Heaving another heavy sigh, he reached up and slowly, gingerly pulled his wig off his hair. A few dark locks fell into his eyes and he eyed them with a frown, making a mental note to see a barber. Irritably blowing at those blasted bangs, the Commodore glanced at Yami sourly, clearly displeased. 4
He was utterly surprised by the expression on the boy's face. It was something along the lines of admiration, awe and shock. Baffled, Seto frowned, a bit uneasy at the sheer intensity of that smoldering gaze.
The sudden silence could be cut by a knife.
Then, quietly, the Prince whispered, "...Is it as soft as it looks?" Not even waiting for an answer, he reached out with a quivering hand, eyes dazed and childishly wide.
As still as stone and hardly breathing, the Commodore eyed those slender fingers with puzzlement and open suspicion. His heart raced as he watched those elegant digits inch every closer, the Prince almost leaning on his shoulder to reach over.
A visible tremor ran through them both when Yami's hand hesitantly brushed Seto's forehead, running gently across the smooth skin and through those thick, chocolate bangs. Fascinated, the Prince marveled at the silkiness of the hair, his fingers easily slipping through long, silken locks. The strands felt like the gentlest of water.
"Why do you keep it hidden?" Yami whispered finally, not really expecting an answer.
This question seemed to jolt a stunned Seto back into life, and very quickly, he stood, smoothing his hair and rather hurriedly stuffing his wig back on. The back of his neck was an interesting tint of pink. "It keep it hidden because it is against protocol, your highness," Seto muttered icily, inwardly shaken by the intimate moment. He shuddered to himself. Lord, how could he have let himself into such an... an improper action?
Yami watched the Commodore stiffen and bit his lip, retracting his hand from where it still caressed thin air. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, flushing himself, "I didn't--"
"I wish to retire now, your highness," said Seto suddenly and pointedly, looking back at Yami briefly, frowning. He nodded curtly. "Enjoy the rest of the night."
Hurt, Yami looked away, saying nothing.
His frown deepening, Seto moved quickly to the courtyard entrance, mind whirling in directions he wasn't sure he'd like it to go.
"Will you not say goodnight, Commodore?" came a soft, distinct voice behind him.
Seto stopped briefly, then turned to look over his shoulder, blue eyes flashing from under the stark white of his wig. He managed a tight smile. "Good night, my Prince."
Seto awoke early, restless. He had slept poorly during the night, his thoughts haunted by a certain red-eyed Prince and some age-old memories of his past that he dared not remember. On top of it all, his yearning for the open sea had not quelled during the night, much to his dismay. If anything, it had amplified and was now driving him antsy. All through dawn --in which he had attempted to watch the sun rise and had realized quite quickly that the blasted trees outside his window were blocking the way-- he had paced agitatedly through every inch of his room, now having memorized every detail of that blasted, low-slung chandelier he kept running into. The morning meal was still an hour away, and the only people in the hall were a few early-rising musketeers and some servants scrambling about to complete their duties. Hopefully, most of Seto's men were already awake, as early-rising as their commanding officer. However, though missing their company terribly, Seto feared to go in search of any of his men's rooms; knowing his luck, he'd end up walking in on some plump old lady half-naked and still dressing.
Suddenly, there was a quick rap on his door. Ready to kiss whomever had come to relieve him of his boredom, Seto flung open the door and was greeted with an odd sight. Many of his men, Andrew and Edward among them, stood huddled against his doorway like a group of lost children. All of them were pale and messily dressed.
"A message for you, sir, from England. It's been following us for days," stated Andrew, strangely solemn. He handed Seto a note.
Frowning, Seto took it, scanning it over. He paled visibly, then crumbled the sheet in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he looked up, blue eyes hard. His voice was soft and deadly. "Does the Queen know of this?"
"My father!" Sophia cried, near hysterical, "Oh, my darling father!"
The flabbergasted King could only try to comfort her as she bawled into his sleeves. "Quand avez-vous reçu des nouvelles de ceci?" he demanded. ( When did you receive news of this? )
Seto was expressionless. "La nuit dernière, Seigneur. Un messager de nuit l'a apporté ici de la côte." ( Last night, sire. An overnight messenger brought it here from the coast. )
"Qu'elle est sa condition?" ( What is his condition? )
"Une maladie de l'esprit, mon Seigneur. Il l'a attrappé rapidement voilà une semaine. Les physiciens disent qu'il ne lui reste qu'une douzaine de jour à vivre." ( An illness of the mind, sire. He contracted it quickly a week ago. The physicians say he will not have more than a dozen days to live. )
Sophia cried harder. The King whispered some comforting words to her, thoroughly bewildered. Seto stood in front of their thrones, head bowed, backed by his men. He remained silent and apathetic.
"Please! Please, my love, I must go see him!" pleaded Sophia, her voice broken with sobs, her words a nendless babble of fast, rapid English.
The King hesitated, looking torn. "Peut-être si je demande pour plus de marins--" ( Perhaps if I call for some sailors-- )
"Mon Seigneur, si je peux me permettre de parler..." broke in Seto gently, eyes fixed on Sophia's shaking, weeping form, "J'escorterai avec plaisir sa Majesté de nouveau en l'Angleterre." ( Sire, if I may speak... I will gladly escort Her Majesty back to England. )
The King looked at him, both grateful and suspicious at the suggestion.
Seto went on, seeing that Sophia had stopped crying enough to hear him, "Mes bateaux sont équipés et préparent, mon Seigneur, et j'ose dire qu'ils composent une flotte puissante." ( My ships are manned and ready, sire, and I daresay they make up a mighty fleet. )
The King still hesitated. "Peut-être une escorte française..." he started tentatively. ( Perhaps a French escort... )
"Mon Seigneur, je ne crois pas que nous avons le temps pour cet arrangement," said Seto quietly. ( Sire, I do not believe we have time for that arrangement. )
Silence.
Biting his lip, the King looked at Seto's men, then at Seto himself. He patted Sophia's golden head. "Vous êtes un membre de sa famille, je vous confie ainsi avec sa santé. Je vous en pris, prenez soin de prise d'elle...?" he asked, genuinely concerned. ( You are her kinsmen, so thus I entrust you with her health. Please take care of her...? )
Very briefly, Seto's lips twitched upward. "Comme vous le voulez, votre Majesté." ( Will do, your majesty. )
Try as he might, Seto could not suppress a tremor of excitement as he and his men filed out of the Throne room, curious French men and women parting before them like the Red Sea. As terrible as the situation was, the Commodore was thrilled at the notion of returning to his ships and the sea long before schedule. For an instant, it seemed like a choir of angels sang down upon him from above.
Then, quite suddenly, the angels fell silent.
Offhandedly, Seto noted that all the French had fallen into bows. He didn't notice the reason for the action until he practically ran straight into it. Dressed in a simple red-gold robe and followed by two neat rows of musketeers, Yami stood before him, fair face solemn, crimson eyes flashing. Startled by this untimely appearance of the Prince and his entourage of cavaliers, Mahado included, Seto stopped dead in his tracks, barely a dozen meters out the Throne Room.
Heart suddenly very heavy, Seto bowed deeply with the rest of his men. He noted faintly that the Prince did not allow him to kiss his hand, even hiding both hands behind his robes when Seto look a small step forward to do so.
Flinching, Seto stood, his example followed obediently by his men. "Your highness..." he greeted stiffly, bowing his head and reaching up to dip his hat.
Yami's eyes were sad, not rising from their blank stare on the Commodore's chest. "Is it true?" the boy demanded quietly.
"What is true, your highness?" asked Seto gently.
Now those lovely, wine-red eyes rose to meet his gaze, filled with misery and sorrow. "That you're leaving so soon, Commodore? After just a day here?" There was no accusation in the boy's honeyed voice, just a bit of pleading.
Seto felt a distinct aching inside he couldn't quite place. He swallowed what felt like a lump of lead in his throat. "I'm afraid so, my Prince."
There was deadened silence between them, their gazes holding for what seemed like an immeasurable amount of time.
Then, finally, heart wrenching with grief, Yami looked away, turning to leave. He took a few steps and then paused, briefly turning to look over his shoulder. His voice was soft and sad. "Then I wish you a safe journey, Commodore."
AN: AAARRRGG! THIS BLOODY CHAPTER WAS SO HARD TO WRITE! I honestly hope I didn't bore everyone out of their minds. SIGH I personally like Chapter 3 better, being that this one was all talk and pointless babble. Xp I swear, the next chapter will be more interesting; Yami gets to find out about Seto's ships and his odd obsession with dragons. :-p And yeah, they set sail. I think. I'm not sure if they're going to get together (FINALLY) in the next chapter, but hopefully they will. PRAY:-p A major thanks to everyone at Pharaoh's Palace and my email buddies who helped me with this blasted, god-forsaken mess of a chapter.
1 - Okay okay, I don't know squat about old British names. I was so desperate I was actually looking through my American History textbook for some names from back in the Revolution. I did what sounded best with "Christian" (which is my favorite guy name and --rumored-- to be some nickname or something of Seto's in the Duelist of Roses :-D) and that strangely turned out to be Walker. (Special thanks to Nenya who helped me with the names; imagine how terrible it would have been if I named Seto after some of the Founding Fathers... -wince-) Heh, notice that so far I've never had anyone call Seto by his full title: with the French/Yami/Mahado, it was always just "Commodore" and with the crew, it was usually "sir". However, in the following chapters, pirates and other naval officers will repeatedly have to call Seto by something formal, and as odd as Commodore Walker might think, we're all stuck with it.
2 - "Colonies" is a term I use loosely to refer to the then-British colonies of America, before the Revolution.
3 - England, I'm pretty sure, was Anglican for a while (I remember this cuz of Queen Elizabeth sweatdrop) I have absolutely no idea what England was at/before the time of the Revolution, but hopefully it involves the Bible and Christianity. (I seriously do not mean to offend anyone when I use the word "heathen"; its just that, in such a strict society such as England and France in this story, everything Yami does is totally "wacko" and against the "rules", which obviously bewildered the heck out of Seto whose so used to following these "rules" through his whole life)
4 - I know it's a weird picture, but obviously Seto's hair would have to be pulled back to fit under the wig. That means his bangs are probably a little longer and the hair at the back might be a longer so they could fit into a tiny little ponytail. REALLY weird image, I know!